269 miles to go

I am waking up in a rest area in rural western Florida and see that there is a sign right in front of me that sez "Overnight trailer parking and camping prohibited."  Presumably that doesn't apply to Pirates.  Nor to the other folks who got here at about the same time that I did last night and who are still here.

Finding a place to park last night was tough.  My goal was to get to the Lucky Thirteen truck stop but I guess things haven't been so lucky for them lately 'cause they were out of business!

~~~

The ol' Bluebird is pretty tough to drive.  I am constantly reminded that I have my entire house right behind me and my SUV on a trailer, and that an accident is unthinkable.  As RV's go this one is quite road worthy but it's simply big - bigger than most trucks with the trailer attached. For a variety of reasons it's tough to see out of after dark.  Acceleration should be measured with a calendar rather than a stop watch, and the brakes meet specs but you definitely don't want to have to do a panic stop.  

Consequently a 350 mile day is usually a long day for me.  From what I have heard and seen that's about right for most RVs.  I can cruise around 60mph on level roads but I discover that the folks that pass me in other RVs spend more time on the side of the road resting than I do.  

A couple of days ago I ran into this couple with a newer Bluebird. They passed me three times that day. They were running quicker but stopping more often.

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I am seeing bunches of folks on motorcycles who are carrying luggage and heading eastbound, so I presume that they are all going to Daytona Bike Week.  The Iron Butt Association also has a dinner in Jacksonville tomorrow (Friday) and I expect to see some of my pals riding in for that. (Note: obviously I wrote this a few days ago and for the folks that made it to the IBA dinner I apologize 'cause I missed it!)

Here is a group of Harley riders at the Pensacola rest area just after you cross the bay:

~~~

RV's are like boats.  They are all about maintenance.  The constant pounding and vibration when traveling breaks things and disrupts other things.  Sometimes it gets them working again, however.

The 'bird has three LP gas heaters, supplemented by built in electric heaters and a system that draws heat from the engine coolant when you are on the road.  One of the LP gas heaters quit in Texas.  It must have been some sort of debris in the intake, because it's working just fine now.

Wish that I could say the same for my computers.  I have two tower units, a laptop on a docking station, and a micro Sony that's about the size of two Palm organizers all mounted in or on my desk, and they use a switch so that I control everything with one keyboard, one mouse, and one LCD monitor.  Something must be loose because the computers seem to be booting but are slow to display on the monitor.  Sheesh.  And after the keyboard hit the floor yesterday for the 100th time the Control key doesn't seem to be working.

~~~

I have been showering every morning but after 4 days am getting short on water.  Thankfully I should be at our workshop tonight and I can fill the tank back up.  Still ... hot water and a real shower whilst in a truck stop parking lot or a rest area is pretty civilized.  I pinch myself with how well this stuff is working but when we originally bought the Bluebird the water pressure was low and we had leaks in the system, so it has taken quit a bit of work to get to this point.

~~~

On my first day of travel along coastal Texas I recorded a little bit better than 6.5 miles per gallon, which is considerably better than the 5 mpg that I had been expecting.  The old two stroke Detroits are reliable and powerful for their size but they are thirsty and smoggy.  They also have a reputation for spitting out oil and leaking, but I will have to say that mine is pretty civilized.

I fueled at a small truck fuel stop on the US side of the Progreso crossing and fuel was $1.93 a gallon.  That contrasts with almost $5 a gallon in Florida when we left last summer.  

One of the appeals to the Rio Grande Valley is that Mexico has kept fuel prices stable for years and while the exchange rate has varied quite a bit fuel at the Petro stations in Mexico has generally run about $2.20 a gallon.  I had planned to run across the border and refuel but as luck would have it diesel is actually cheaper right now in the States than it is in Mexico.

~~~

Folks just joining me on Facebook who commented that they were enjoying reading my travel tales are probably thinkin' "well ... he's going to be home tonight and that will end the series." Wrong Kemo Sabe ... I have a fair amount of material from Mexico yet to be posted.  Be scared!

~~~

Each cat has a different attitude when it comes to traveling.

As soon as the big diesel engine fires the Big Grey Cat dives under the couch and stays there until I stop for the night.  

Coyote sometimes sleeps on the bed but she usually rushes under the couch as soon as I get ready to move and hangs out with Greyness.  She comes out for a snack when I stop.  When we moved the 'bird around locally in Jacksonville she used to snooze on the dashboard but by and large she likes a more secure location when traveling.

The Siamese?  Sheesh.  She has wayyyyyyyyyyyyy too much energy and is fearless.  She walks around, and divides her sleeping time between the passenger seat and the bed.   Whenever I stop she spends her time starring out the window, bird watching.

Here she is, this morning, perched on top of the driver's seat head rest:

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Here is a man that I really feel sorry for.  This is in a Florida rest area somewhere to the west of Tallahassee.

~~~

I got into Jacksonville safe and sound on Thursday night and parked in the large lot behind a friend's bar.  Deb was waiting inside and we just generally had a blast.  The next morning I fired up the 'bird and drove a few miles for a leisurely breakfast, then parked the motorhome and trailer back at my workshop.  

It's good to be home but y'know what?  I'm ready to go again, and I really miss Texas!

More random thoughts on travelin'

Here is a perfectly good example of why truckers and anyone hauling anything on the highway needs to check their straps, ropes, chains, or bubble gum regularly.  This is one of the four straps holding my Land Rover onto my trailer. There was a metal end on that one strap once - 60 minutes earlier when I last checked it.  

Nothing quite like losing your SUV in the middle of I-10 to ruin your day, I always say.

~~~

When I am traveling by RV I stop quite a bit at truck stops.  I used to own a truckin' company and, as a consequence, am painfully aware of the good and the bad of truckstop culture.  One thing that I discovered a long time ago is that the vast majority of truckstop food doesn't agree with me.  I used to know all the truckstops that had decent restaurants nearby.  Last night I walked down the road maybe half a mile to eat at a Chinese place. Hallelujah!  It wasn't great, but it beat the buffet at the Petro by the proverbial mile.

~~~

Truck stops vary widely in quality.  Flying J caters to RV folks and regular motorists, and they tend to be my first choice to stop in.  Some small truck stops are ...well ... just nasty.  There is no way around that.  I wouldn't let my cats eat in some of those places.

~~~

I spent last night (March 3rd) at the Petro in Hammond, LA.  The place gave me sorta bad vibes after dark but I didn't have any problems.  RV'ers there are in a separate lot next to the main parking area, which is a good thing because the main part of the truck stop was absolutely full last night.

Finding a place to stop and spend the night used to be an issue for years with truckers, and from what I can see it hasn't gotten any better.

~~~

You run into some odd people at truck stops.  Normally, I like "different" folks but the odd ones take some understanding.  Like the folks living out of their cars.  Or the guy that I asked to move last night so that I could back into a parking space.  He was probably harmless enough but he was in a pickup truck with all his possessions, and I could see a dog and a cat keeping him company in that cramped little truck.  And he was wayyyyyyyyyyy spaced out, I assume on too much driving and not enough sleep.  Whew.

And over the years I have seen some fights and the cops called out to truck stops in crazy episodes that would shame a biker bar.

With that said, there are some awfully nice folks out there too.  Sort of a brotherhood of the road. A camaraderie of folks that are constantly on the move.  They look out for each other.

~~~

The Hammond Petro has a decent movie theatre and I watched the last half of the latest Batman flick (The Dark Knight) last night.  The ending was a bit weak, I thought, but the late Heath Ledger as the Joker was an excellent and inspired performance, and quite different from all of the other Jokers that we have seen on film or TV.  Well worth watching.

~~~

You see some interesting sights at truck stops.  A flatbed just pulled in and there is a military Hummer on the trailer that is missing the left rear wheel and has quite a bit of rear body damage.  Bomb explosion, perhaps?  Yikes!

~~~

Texas generally has excellent roads.  From Mission to Houston was fine.  But I-10 around Beaumont has been under construction since I owned my truckin' company, and that's been almost 20 years.  That's silly.  

Houston traffic is so aggressive it's unreal.  And Bubba, I'll give you a hint:  When I light up all seven (7) fricken turn signals on the side of the motorhome and trailer that doesn't mean to dive in there and take my spot as I try to change lanes.  It's the law of tonnage - I don't care how cute your Honda is, but if I don't see you and run over you with my 23 ton motorhome that damage won't polish out.  It's nothing personal.  Please use your brain.

And I love Texas' use of flyover ramps.  Some of those things are so tall that you'd swear that the landing pattern at Bush International is below the ramp.

~~~

Louisiana has improved their roads dramatically, but they still have some highways that are so rough as to be unreal when you are in a motorhome.  As someone explained it to me the blocks of concrete paving material have settled in the sand and that's why they are so uneven. Consequently, driving a motorhome or truck across these things gives the vehicle a severe back-and-forth pitching motion.  Even the bridges are rough and it's a bit unnerving to be sawing the steering wheel back and forth, struggling to maintain control,  as you cross some huge bridge across a shipping canal and you realize that the ornamental cast iron guard rail wouldn't even slow down something the size of your vehicle if you were to madly take a stab at plunging 500 ft. down to the river below.  Yikes!

~~~

This is Drifters, one of my all time favorite bars.  It's on old Rt. 90 along the causeway as you cross old Mobile Bay.  The Interstate I-10 bridge pretty well by passes it these days.  

It's rough, it's getting rickitier every time that I go there (I suggested that they put a bottle of tequila at the bottom of the railing so that they can sell shots to fortify first time visitors), and the locals make a point to hang there and ride out hurricanes every time lousy weather passes nearby.  

The place is one of the few liquor bars open 24/7 so you know that the crowd is entertaining.

The cook lives in a travel trailer just to the right of the place.  It's next to the boat ramp and right on Old Mobile Bay so you would think that the fishin' would be excellent.  I swear, if he ever moves away I think that I'll snag his spot and hang out for a few months myself.

 

Traveling March 4th, 2009

Here I am on Sunday, waking up in the morning, with the parking lot at the border crossing to Progreso, TAM, Mexico all to myself:



I really, really enjoy the RV lifestyle. Sure, going from a multi-bedroom house with enough garage space for 5 cars and compressing your world into 320 sq. ft. has its trade offs, but I love the mobility and the adventure.  

FEMA (the US's much maligned Federal disaster relief organization, for those of you outside the USA) sent Deb and me to New Orleans for the Hurricane Gustav Party for what we anticipated would be a three-week stay. Now, almost 6 months later, I am returning "home" to Florida. Hurricane Ike kept us on the road longer than we anticipated. And Deb left Texas to take care of her parents in Tennessee several months ago and then continued on to Florida to take charge of some real estate matters that we had going on.  

I miss you Deb!  

Only ... I'm not sure that Florida is really my home any more. Deb and I had talked about moving to Texas or perhaps California well before this summer's events and our subsequent several months of meandering along the Texas coast.  

New Orleans was great. That city is a party every night, and the food and culture is unique. FEMA sent us on to Austin and finally Houston, Texas.  

Austin is very hip, but the surfing sucks.  

Houston is closer to the ocean (never mind that Galveston, the closest major beach location, was trashed by Hurricane Ike) and is a thriving, bustling metropolitan area with a strong Hispanic influence.  

Deb and I spent many weeks wandering down the coast of Texas, something that I have wanted to do for years. Angleton (where we had a resident alligator), Port Lavaca, Corpus Christi, South Padre Island ... all wonderful experiences!

Here we are camped out in Corpus Christi, TX. Notice how close the salt water is:






We got down to the Mission and McAllen areas, roughly 60 miles inland from Brownsville and right on the Texas/Mexican border and wondered if we had found Paradise. There are over 500 RV parks in that area, and the term "Winter Texan" has come into being to denote those retirees that flock to south Texas during the cold winter months. Unlike the Snowbirds in Florida, which has practically become an insulting term meaning "cheap bastard", the Winter Texans are embraced by the community in South Texas. We expected to stay in the Rio Grande Valley for a week. Then we extended that for a month. Now, three months later, and following a bit of a delay due to chronic refrigerator issues, I am reluctantly on the road back to Florida. McAllen, Texas - such a neat, exciting area.  

The Rio Grande Valley has tons of history as the cities along the border were originally part of Mexico. Today you have neat, clean, prosperous communities throughout the area. Living costs are low, and industrial northern Mexico is just a few miles away.  

Were it not for having a garage full of motorcycles and other assorted junk in Florida that need to be organized and, in some cases, repaired, I would have happily stayed in the Rio Grande Valley. As things stand we need to get the workshop packed up and get some of our real estate affairs in order, and the next time that we get an opportunity to head back to Texas the bikes will follow.  

Back to RV'ing ... just like motorcyclists have a whole 'nuther culture (and sometimes you have subcultures within that culture) there is a huge underground culture among RV folks. Most are retirees. Plenty of us folks are decently well off, even if we do count our beer money every so often. Some folks give you the impression that they have moved into travel trailers or modest RVs for economic reasons. Whatever their story, by and large everyone gets along.  

Mission has several RV parks that cater to the over 55 set. I haven't quite passed that marker, but for whatever reason I was still welcomed in an over 55 RV park that had a pool, plenty of space, palms, and a recreation hall where events were held almost every night. That ain't a bad way to retire, let me tell you Brother!  

Life moves at a different pace in the RV parks of the Rio Grande Valley:

Buying, and restoring, our Bluebird Wanderlodge was one of the best decisions that we have ever made. Yours Truly had always wanted to have a bus conversion, but a few years of putting the Bluebird to use have impressed me with how well this vehicle - which was designed from the ground up to be a motorhome for full time living - works. Our 'bird is over 25 years old and like a lot of these things they literally don't make them like this any more. She's not flashy like the newer fiberglass RVs but being made out of solid steel, the classic Bluebird is literally tough like a military vehicle, a quality that you appreciate after several days of pounding along rough highways and towing a trailer that weights almost 5 tons.  

Here I am, sitting in the parking lot at a Petro Truck Stop in Hammond, Louisiana, writing to you. The generator (a 4 cylinder Perkins diesel) is cranking out enough wattage to run the computers, electric heaters (supplemented with LPG gas heat), and, most importantly ... my coffee maker. I've been up for an hour, watching television and writing, and by now there should be plenty of hot water for a shower. In the Great, Galactic Scheme of Things this ain't a bad way to start the morning!  

I need to drag myself over to Pensacola this morning in order to take care of some business. With any luck I will be having a beer in Jacksonville, FL Thursday afternoon.

Here's to more adventures!